


A Glorious Treat

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cum Eating, F/M, Femdom, Girl Power, Glory Hole, Light Dom/sub, Mommy Issues, Naughty Boy Brahms, Oral Sex, Swallowing, Witty Banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-07 09:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16406102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Summary: There's a new hole in the wall and it's no coincidence it's in plain sight of your daily rounds, in the most ignored room in the manor no less? Brahms is up to something.Anon #1 asked: Omg please please please write some more BrahmsAnon #2 asked: plz more brahms, you've sucked me into his thirsty thirsty waysA/N: For Kinktober Day 29 (glory hole). Thanks for the asks anons, I've been meaning to write more Brahms for awhile, so here we go! <3





	A Glorious Treat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



It’s been days since you’d last seen him, but probably seconds since he’s last seen you. Not a day goes by without an errant scuttle in the walls or some object misplaced or gone altogether. He is lurking, always close by, but rarely do you see him. There is usually the phantom smell of sweat or ivory soap that you’ve insisted he scrubbed himself down with more than once a week, but it’s mainly the sneaking bumps behind the walls that give Brahms away.

The last time you saw him, he was a hunched over, yet still immeasurably tall, figure in the kitchen. The light’s had been out, but he’d been in the process of making himself something to eat from the stocked fridge - the glow of the white icebox bulb backlighting him. Brahms was but a tall lanky silhouette with wild fluffy locks tangled around his crown and then, with the flip of the kitchen light, he’d been gone. Vanished. Poofed into thin air. He was fast when he wanted to be, despite his build or… it could be that you were simply seeing what you wanted to in his absence.

This morning, on your rounds, you’ve found an odd, waist-high hole in the intricately carved paneling between the second floor left-wing fireplace and a built-in armoire the color of rich-stained mahogany. The only reason you see it is because the morning sun is stark, casting everything in a patina of canary yellow. The dark, three-inch diameter hole is the only pitch black thing in the smoking room and because you’ve come to associate Brahms Heelshire with darkness, you walk steadily towards it. 

Upon closer inspection, it seems as though someone has taken some fine sandpaper to the edges, leaving the hole buffed smooth. Craftmanship was always Brahms passion it seemed when he wasn’t being a naughty boy.

Gently, you set down the washing upon a blue upholstered chair by the bird-footed table and elephant figurine. Under your fingers, the wooden hole is smooth as silk. 

You know what it is, smiling as the sound of shuffling knocks against the inner walls to your right. The sight of Brahms’ finely created dick hole is charming and more than a tad trite, but it’s adorable the way he slides through the inner corridors at the sound of you finding his little opening to glory. You can only guess as to what new game Brahms is up to, but it’s something mischievous for sure and it explains why he hasn’t shown up unannounced in your bedroom this past week. Perhaps he’s gone shy again and devised this seedy little opening to gain some selfish pleasure from.

A part of you had known there would be interesting repercussions for wrapping your lips around Brahms’ cock the last time he’d shown his masked visage. The message is clear. All your thoughts should be innocent and tame and not in the slightest bit lewd, but they are all incredibly foul and sure enough, the smell of ivory soap hits your nose and you smirk; palms flat on the wooden paneling.

There’s the muffled chant of a man out of breath. The wall bangs, rattling a picture frame with the scenic view of the Leblon River just east of the castle and lo and behold… Brahms’ darkened crotch teases behind the opening. You are less shocked thanks to your intuitions when a blushing, erect cock is fed through the hole with a garden of dark brown pubic hair filling the quarter inch gap. Quite suddenly, you are leaning back - spine bent back - and staring an inch away from the red-tipped cap of Brahms’ cock. You marvel and suck your lower lip.

The head is tapered and bulging around the flared edges down towards and thick, turgid root layered in sinuous, fat veins. It’s so beautiful when it’s nice and clean and swollen like this...

“... oh my god,” you mutter in a false scandal, pulling a hand to your hot cheek as a boyish giggle floats through the gap in the wooden walls. It’s arousing as well as adorable to hear him sound so pleased, as though he’d come up with something crafty and ingenious. Little does he know how cliché his idea truly is.

“Play with me,” he says with a child's voice; muffled but clear as bells.

“Oh, Brahms…” you whisper, looking in all corners of the room for anyone else loitering about. You are more than eager to play this game, but to have another member of the staff waltz into the smoking room to find you sucking cock from the walls would be hard to talk your way out of.

Gentle-like, you sweep your thumb over his slit, listening as he chokes. One soft kiss and a whisper of ‘wait, here’ before you shuffle back to the heavy maple wood door. You close it with a soft click and give the golden eyelet a turn of your skeleton key. 

“... Brahms,” you whisper after crossing the distance back to the cock jutting from the wall, “you know you shouldn’t say things like that given such context.” It’s a small admonishment, but such things never fail to unravel his puffing vitriol. He grumbles beyond the wooden panels and thicker studs, slams his fist against inner construction and snarls. 

“I said. Play with me,” he growls like a starved dog of the moors. If you’re going to do this then better he let the violent man out that trick her with the little boy. Sounding like the man you know he is - a man with a proudly erect and throbbing cock that’s waiting to be played with - gets you back on your knees. 

“Play with it,” Brahms demands. It’s the same tone he’d used when telling you to dispose of the old woman who’d done… something to warrant the death she’d received. You and the Manager had already cut your teeth on Brahms’ proclivities a few months ago and after that night he’d crawled over your bed to ‘play’ with you. Working here has proven old interests. You like Brahms… and you like that he’s unclean; blood on his hands even after they’ve been washed. It turns you on and it’s this you think of while planting your palms on the wall around the cock and the long, aching cock.

With the door locked and no one to see you, including Brahms, you lick your lips and eye the generous girth with hunger. Brahms shifts behind the wall and his cock bobs. There are no more threatening demands as if he’s rethinking his angle… figuring out how best to convince your lips to wrap around him, but you’re one step ahead of his game this time.

“Ask me nicely, Brahms. Ask me like a real man. Say please.”

“Please - please. Play with me,” he rumbles without hesitation but adds menacingly, “Now.”

The tantalizing sight of his veiny, weeping cock is enough to ignore his last barking word. You want to touch him - it - and swallow it down and taste him. His cum had been so much like the sea in your mouth the last time, reminding you of childhood vacations to the shore with those laughing mouthfuls of brine when the waves were rough. You want to feel his thick, creamy cum on your tongue again, and swish the flavor in your mouth until it’s all you can taste all day long.

When you smack your lips in preparation, Brahms hears it and shakes again; blood-fat cock jostling. It twitches when you palm the underside of it and the sound he utters when you swipe your tongue across the glob of precum makes you moan greedily. 

He’s vocal.

Brahms is so noisy considering how quiet he is when sneaking around in the walls and shadows. It took you by surprise the first time he came for you - the growling, snarling groans, and high-pitched moans were so breathtakingly loud you’d been paralyzed at first. Now, you tell him to ‘be a good boy, and stay quiet,’ before opening your mouth and suckling around the first four inches of cock. He tastes like nothing thanks to the soap he must have scrubbed himself down with an hour ago, but the salty tang of semen helps glide away your disappointment until his cock is a tangy treat. 

“More.”

The walls bounce as if Brahms slams twin fists into the wood and even though you’ve snaked a fist around the inches you can’t fit in your mouth, Brahms starts rocking his hips against the other side, thrusting in and out of the tight ring of your lips as if he can fuck through the wall; mouth warming the whole gross length of him. There’s no way. 

A sudden, muffled sob of breath and pulsation in his cock says he’s going to cum too soon again anyway. He was good with his fingers and enthusiastic if not untamed, but when it came to the reaches of your body, mouth included it seems, he has no tolerance.

You hollow your cheeks, press your tongue to his leaking slit and lash the tender knot beneath his head until Brahms is panting against the dusty wood paneling within and jerking his hips with weak little moans.

“... more! If you don’t-” he hiccups into silence when your teeth press down; an idle threat.

He’s nearly there, you know by the way his fingers rap inside the walls and his cock lifts up as though in sudden perpetual motion. It’ll make a mess if you don’t swallow, so you open your throat and bear down, taking his cock just before your gag reflex kicks in and fist him in a blurry, steadfast motion. He snarls and bucks, muttering nonsense; choking on spit and grunting exhales.

Hot jets of semen hit the back of your uvula. For a second you retch, but a swallow gulps it all down and a final suck draws the flavour in your mouth, between your teeth and over soaking tastebuds. 

You lean back, breathing heavily as Brahms rakes his nails down the wood grain and pants heavily. 

“Be a good boy for me Brahms?” you say, equally breathless.

“... yes?”

“Fill this hole back in,” you order him, still on your knees as his cock sags downward; spent, “... or I’ll let Management know you're frightening the guests again. We don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“I’ll kill him too…,” he mutters darkly, and then whimpers as you lean in and lick his tender cockhead, “... what… but what about a bedtime story? I’ll be good then.”

For a moment you lead him on with silence, enjoying the little moment where Brahms is culled and needy and waiting. You wait and wait, grinning and wait some more until he’d snarling like a beastly entity.

Brahms huffs and puffs, “... or-or I’ll come anyway and then I’ll take you home with me. I’ll kill ALL of THEM! - and take you forever and ever.”

Take you to his secret space inside the walls, you think, rolling your eyes. Without Managment, or you for that matter, he’ll be forced outside the heart of the castle and he knows this, but he’s not happy about being denied so his mind has narrowed down to one mode of thinking. It’s amusing. 

You smirk as he continues his little tantrum, only tapping a nail against the wall when he gets too loud. On cue, he goes quiet again; breathing against cracked porcelain that is in turn, leaning against sturdy wood.

“I’ll read you a bedtime story and give you a kiss goodnight, but you need to promise me you’ll cover up this hole, Brahms… it can our little secret, but keep it well hidden. Okay?”

“Yes, Miss…” he says finally, sounding so sweet and polite and nothing like the man who’d been promising slaughter a moment ago.

“There’s a good boy, Brahms. There’s my good boy.”

The soft sound of pleasure behind the wall, inside that darkness, is just as gratifying as the flaccid cock that slips away. He’ll be ready for you later tonight. Alone… and vulnerable, but in control no matter how he likes to pretend he’s the one making the rules.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you have the time, please leave me a comment letting me know what worked for you or what didn't.
> 
> Thank you to Flesh Dust for betaing! <3
> 
>  
> 
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